


A Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths

by Dystopian_Dramaqueen



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
Genre: Consensual Sex, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Reunion Sex, happy endings, role play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-03-07 03:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18865204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dystopian_Dramaqueen/pseuds/Dystopian_Dramaqueen
Summary: Soapy one shots consistent with S3 of The Handmaid's Tale.These will read like romance novels/pulp fiction. They are just for fun.Spoiler Alert: every chapter will involve either Nick and June hooking up or Fred dying a satisfying well deserved death. #allthefreddeaths**Chapter 3 is new.** trying to finish all WIP from old seasons.





	1. Bring the Prisoner to My Chambers

  **Chapter 1: Bring The Prisoner To My Chambers**

 

June is in the van for what seems like hours. Hands bound behind her back. A heavy canvas hood blocks out any light she could use to gauge time.

 

She has to rely completely on sound. Ears stretching, searching for any clue. But there’s nothing. Just the hum of the engine. Tires on the highway.

 

She had a good run. Lawrence got Hannah out of the country through the same channels that rescued Holly.

 

She and Alma took down three commanders in Boston by smuggling poison to their Marthas. The deaths were quiet. Non violent. Nothing was suspected until the pattern became clear.

 

But then she was captured. And now she is being transported to her death.

 

The van finally stops. She prays these men are with Mayday. Rebels disguised as eyes. Men in black sent to rescue her. There have to be groups of good men. Organizing together as the Handmaids have done. Or have all the good men been slaughtered by these pigs.

 

She hears two doors slam shut at the front of the van. Heavy bootsteps. Two sets. One on each side of the van. They meet at the back door. Then voices. The deep aggressive voices of guardians. Rank with unsatisfied lust and righteous rage.

 

_Solitary?_

_No. Boss is handling her interrogation personally._ _She’s too important._

_Who is she?_

_You know those terrorist attacks in Boston?_

_Yeah._

_She’s the leader._

_Whores. I hope they’re all flayed alive._

_Harlots and sinners, the lot of them. Given a second chance and look what they did with it._

 

The metal doors screech open.

 

Rough hands grip her arms too hard. Pulling her violently from the van. Her legs buckle - weak from disuse. 

 

She’s drag/ walked down a concrete corridor suspended between two men. Like a child dragging their feet. She hears male voices. So many men. An army of violent men. 

 

Finally a turn. A knock. A pause. A heavy metal door opens.

 

She’s shoved forward.

 

She hears a zippo lighter and a cigarette being lit from across the room. That man is about 5 feet away. Watching her.

 

_That her?_

_Yes, Sir._

_You sure?_

_Yes Lieutenant._

_Dismissed._

 

Boots shuffle to salute then retreat. They leave. The door closes. The footsteps linger by the door. Guarding the exit. _This is where I’m going to die._

 

The officer crosses the room to her. The steps are different. Lighter. Dress shoes instead of boots.

 

The man walks behind her. Cutting the zip tie around her wrists. June gasps as blood courses through the abused tissue. Shoulders aching- after being held in one position for so long. Her hood is pulled off and she’s blinded by bright fluorescent light. She rubs her eyes to dull the stinging pain. Knowing it’s useless to open them for at least a minute. Glad for the excuse. She’s terrified to see what they have planned for her. This is the end. This is death.

 

When she does finally open her eyes- the man slowly comes into view. A black silhouette. Wreathed in smoke. As the edges become crisper - something is familiar. Dark hair. Dark eyes. A kind expression. She feels a gentle hand on her arm. There is only one man in Gilead who touched her gently. She feels a flicker of hope.

 

“Nick?”  

 

The shadow nods, smiling. “Hey.”

 

June is overwhelmed with emotions. Relief. Hope. Confusion. She hugs Nick hard. He holds her tight. “You ok?” June nods. Barely breathing. Still not believing it. Unwilling to let go. It has to be a mistake. Or a trap. 

 

Nick pulls back. Finger over his lips. He points at the door.

 

They’re listening?  She mouths.

 

He nods.

 

She takes him in. Dressed in military regalia. An elegant black dress coat. Like something from a bygone era. World War II style. High collar. The vest beneath is ornately patterned black satin. Very expensive. His breast is decorated with medals. He looks… Handsome. Regal. Powerful. It suits him.

 

She leans to his ear “What's going on?”

 

He whispers back: “You made the evening news. Gilead’s most wanted. Everyone was looking for the rebel handmaid commander. I took the liberty of finding you first.”

 

June smiles widely. Nick’s in the resistance. This room is safe.

 

“How’d you find me? Alma? Lawrence?”

 

He nods.

 

“But those guys aren’t Mayday.” She gestures at the guardians outside the door.

 

Nick nods. “Those are my repo men. I never let them hurt anyone. Real soldiers. Very good at what they do.”

 

“What are we supposed to be doing in here?”

 

Nick speaks loudly. So he can be heard. Voice emotionless.

 

“Handmaid. You stand accused of terrorism. Murder. Heresy. Conspiracy to undermine our Devine republic. I’m going to ask you some questions. This’ll be easier for everyone if you tell the truth.”

 

Nick leans to her ear. “I need you to pretend I’m hurting you. Can you do that?”

 

"You do this often?" She asks with a disapproving glance. 

 

"Nick shakes his head. "Never." His face changes. "...I just wanted to get you alone."

 

It's still there. The longing. God he still loves her. Nothing has changed.

 

Flooded with relief, June nods with a wide smile. And she can't stop herself. She kisses him. Deeply. Passionately. Both hands on his cheeks, pulling his face to hers. Skin warm and soft just like she remembered. Nick kisses her back as though not even a second had passed since their parting. The kiss he'd wanted to give her the night of the fires. They'd never gotten to say goodbye, and now they'll never have to.

 

It starts going too far as months of pent up desire spill over. Movements quickly becoming desperate. Breaths shaky and shallow. Hands pulling greedily for more. Nick caresses June through her dress. Hands insistent and needy. June pulls his hips into hers. 

 

Nick pulls away. Taking her hand, bringing it to his lips for a quick kiss. Eyes shining with delight. Then he flips her around- bending her over a nearby table. His forearm against her back, pinning her in place with her arm twisted behind her back. Chest and cheek flat against the wood.  Giving her enough context to play her part. June's chest is heaving from arousal. 

 

“Tell me everything you know.” He says gruffly. Hands roaming tenderly over her curves. June closes her eyes in ecstasy. His hands. She’d forgotten how good this man’s hands feel on her body. Knowing her. How to please her. The bold familiar touches of an old lover. 

 

“FUCK YOU” she says angrily. Spitting on the floor.

 

Nick smirks, lids lowering. “Who else is involved? I need names.” He asks- voice monotone. Dropping to his knees behind her.

 

She shivers as his hands glide up her legs taking her dress with them. Bunching it up over her back. He's kissing her. Everywhere. Her legs, her hips, her ass, her back. Squeezing her soft flesh greedily.

 

“I have ways of making you talk.”

 

He’s mouthing over her underclothes, over her center. Biting the fabric, pulling it away with his teeth then letting it fall back to her skin, warmed by his breath. Kissing her through her underwear. Working the waistband down in sections using his mouth as his hands caress her legs. Once her underwear is to her knees, he guides her to step out of it, and nudges her legs apart with his hands. Continuing to worship her skin with hot open mouthed kisses. 

 

June realizes it's her turn to talk. 

 

"I’ll never talk. Pig. Do your worst."

 

“You’re wasting my time. Everybody breaks.”

 

Nick stands up and unbuttons his suit jacket. He takes it off and hangs it over a chair. He unbuttons his cuffs, rolling his black tailored shirt sleeves to his elbows. Unbuckles his belt, eyes on her. He winks with a smile. Turns the chair around.

 

“What are you doing?" June asks. They share a wicked smirk.

 

"Teaching you some respect."

 

“Don’t.” June says. “Don’t. Please.”

 

Nick whips the chair hard with his belt again and again. June yelps with each strike. Finally begging for him to stop. 

 

He drops the leather strap to the floor and they’re in each other’s arms kissing. Lovingly. Deeply. Even the idea of hurting her. Of her in pain- disturbs him deeply. He prays silently. Thankful that he found her first. His hands are in her hair. Wishing he could moan for her. Let her know how good she feels in his arms. Knowing they'll have time later. When they're done here he'll escort her to his people. The hand picked team of rebels he's assembled over the past year. The Mayday members who'll take her to a safe house instead of a prison cell. 

 

They need to be careful just a little longer. They shouldn't even be chancing this contact. But it can't be helped. It feels too fucking good. 

 

He lifts her to sit on the table.

 

She’s frantically unzippping his pants and scooting them down off his hips, pulling him free and stroking him as she kisses him. Like velvet and steel in her hands. Hot and ready for her. Perfectly matched to, made for her internal need. Nick flips her over again, urgently this time, kicking her feet apart. Lifting her dress, franticly exposing her naked skin. Hands spreading her apart, breath catching at the site of her spread and glistening for him. The hastily bunched fabric of her dress falls down obstructing this view and he rips her dress to the waist, creating more space. 

 

“How many others are there?”

 

He lines up at her entrance. Wet. Swollen. Aching with need. All of this for him. His breath shudders. Fuck he can smell how turned on she is. It’s been so long. He’d forgotten. Suppressed his unbearable hunger for her.

 

June whispers: " _There’s no one else. Only you."_

 

Nick’s eyebrows clench. Too hot. He pauses. Far too turned on to proceed. Needing a minute to calm down.

 

“The resistance. How many.” He barks out.

 

“There is no resistance.” She shouts.

 

Moistening the tip, he teases her with it. She keens, wriggling backwards, trying to push herself onto him. Nick knows he won’t last but he can’t wait any more. He needs her more than he needs air. He closes his eyes and presses inside. Slowly sheathing himself in his lover. Wincing in overwhelming pleasure, gripping the table, lips pressed together to keep quiet.

 

June pushes back against him. Asking for more. She turns this into a rhythm- bucking backward, fucking herself on his cock. Nick gives her what she needs. Setting a fast pace to satisfy her. Snapping his hips at the end of each thrust to drive his cock deep inside her. Pulling her back into him. Encouraging her to keep moving too.

 

“Who do you report to?” He grinds out between gritted teeth. Lovingly weaving his fingers into her hair close to her scalp.

 

“Fuck you.” She yells, then grabs his hand, interlacing her fingers with his on her hip. She whispers “ _harder please fuck me harder._ ”

 

Nick fists her hair, pulling back as he slams into her. The fullness is too perfect. He pulls out slowly, sensuously. She wiggles her ass, begging for another savage thrust. Nick bites his lips hard, stifling a groan. Wanting so badly to take her. Give her what she wants. To fuck her senseless. Wishing they were unfettered. Unmonitored. 

 

“Had enough?”

 

“NO.” She yells. Slamming her hand on the table. Demanding more. He smirks lovingly.

  

“Not so brave, now, are you?”

 

She glares back over her shoulder at him. Eyes shining with playful defiance. It pushes him almost over the edge. From their very first time, she's always been able to make him come with just a look. He remembers this now with a shiver. Her power over him. He folds himself around her, arms wrapped around her, palms hot on her sides. Giving himself over to it.

 

He slams into her, and she cries out her pleasure loudly. Altering it just slightly to sound more like pain. Nick lavishes her back with kisses and loving caresses. Almost getting lost in it. Almost pulling her off the table to the floor where he’d have room to maneuver. Or carrying her to his desk or armchair or couch. He wants to kiss her senseless. Ravish her. Make love to her.

 

He pulls her hair over her shoulder, turning her face to kiss her mouth. His voice, his pleas in her ear. _“Come with me.”_

 

 _“Is that an order, Lieutenant Blaine?”_   She whispers.

 

Nick bites back a groan. Forehead to her back. Eyes clenched shut. Trying to hold on just seconds more.

_“What if it is.”_   He grinds out.

 

“I answer to no man.” She shouts. Her fearlessness, inability to even role play subservience impossibly erotic for him. He’s begging in her ear, a shaky needy mess. _“Come for me June. Please. I want to feel you.”_   Babbling. Incoherent with lust and passion.

 

His whispered words are almost enough to send her over the edge. But she holds off on her climax. Loving the delicious irony of breaking a military leader of Gilead with her feminine wiles.

 

He's fucking into her, holding her close with his arm around her, breathing words in her ear. _“I missed you. Everyday. I can’t stand it please I’m not gonna last you feel so fucking good.”_

 

“You want more?” He says loudly. “We can do this for days. Your choice.” 

 

 _“_ _God -yes, please.”_   She whispers

 

Nick knows he’s lost the battle. _“Say it again. Beg me. Louder. Let them hear you.”_   He breathes back. Increasing his pace. Steadily. Chasing his climax. Inevitable now. Hips snapping into her in a brutal pace. _“Oh June I’m gonna come.”_

 

She screams. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE NO NO NO coming hard. He pounds into her hard, Nick bites his lip hard as they come together- head down against her back in a mask of perfect bliss.

 

He spins her around, lifts her to sit on the table, pulling her into a sweaty hug. 

 

 _"Fine I’ll talk."_   She whispers with a smile. Kissing him.

 

He pushes sweaty tendrils back from her face.

 

_"That wasn’t so hard, was it?"_

 

She looks at him eyebrow cocked at the innuendo. Eyes tracing down then back up to his.

 

She nods knowingly. 


	2. Midnight in the Courtyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Extension of Nick and June's kiss from S3E6

 

June already knows. Who has come for her. Who’s outside waiting. 

 

She steps through the grey stone fence around Commander Winslow’s home, breaking into a run as soon as Nick steps out of the shadows. It’s been months since they last had a moment alone. They melt into each other, barely breathing as they kiss in the moonlight. 

 

June holds Nick’s face. Beaming, laughing as she leans back to gaze at him. Her first real smile since the last time they were together. “Hi.” She whispers breathily.

 

Nick’s eyes flutter open, pulled back to reality by her words. He’s reeling from the kiss, drunk off her already. “Hey.” He responds quietly.

 

He holds her gaze briefly, but quickly bends back to her. Pulled by a force too strong to fight. His lips find her cheek, her ear. Losing himself in her body again. She feels herself responding to his familiar touch. Remembering. Needing him. June’s breath catches as his lips trace lower- over the sensitive skin of her neck.

 

She has to steady herself, focus- pull away to tell him her plan to save their daughter. 

 

In an instant, something crosses his face. Shame. Regret. Pain. He’s distant. Cold. He’s walking away, shaking his head. She knows in that moment she’s triggered some terrible pain in him. Memories that he’d buried deep. 

 

He listens. He agrees to help. Pulls her into his chest in apology. But she’s lost him. Their moment is over. There won’t be another one. This one could be the last. 

 

Some quiet voice in her refuses to let that be the end of their story. 

 

She pulls back and gazes on him. The father of her child. Her friend and lover. Her face softens, eyes roaming over his features. His clean cut hair, shorter now. His new uniform, elegant and handsome underneath his new trench coat. His new posture. Straighter. More confident. More powerful. 

 

She slips her hand in the space between his coat and shirt. Exploring the silken fabric over his muscular chest.

 

Nick’s breath catches. Recognizing the look on her face. Knowing what she has in mind.

 

 _Shit._ He thinks as he feels her fingertips on his belt buckle. He closes his eyes briefly, pulling a breath to steel himself. His brain is already shutting down. Blood has chosen other areas to supply. He allows his eyes to find hers. She’s watching her hands unfasten his belt. 

 

“June.” He says. Quietly. Not trying to stop her, but needing to connect.

 

She ignores him. Now unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Nick glances around. It’s midnight. Not a soul to be seen. No lights in the windows. Just them, surrounded by the soft falling snow. Muting the sounds. It feels deceptively private.

 

She turns her hand, fingertips to his skin, palm to his belly, then slides her hand into his shorts and wraps him firmly in her hand. He hisses in a breath, her hands are freezing. And he is very very hard.

 

Her eyes find his hard stare. She smiles with amusement at his expression. Moving her hand. Slowly at first. With the skill and familiarity of an old lover. Exactly how he likes it. Nick clenches his jaw to suppress the groan in his throat.

 

“We can’t do this here.” He mutters.

 

“Do what?” June asks playfully.

 

Nick glares at her. “This. Someone could see.”

 

June smiles. Undeterred. “We’re just talking. No one can see what we’re doing.” Nick looks down and sure enough they’re no closer than they were when they were talking moments ago. Her movements literally cloaked by his coat.

 

But her strokes are getting firmer, faster, and he can feel his need growing. It’s been months. Since they were truly alone. He needs more. He needs to move. He needs to get inside her. Fuck her senseless. Right here. There may not be another chance.

 

He steps closer. Breathing heavily in her ear. “Where should we do it?”

 

“What are my options?”

 

“Sitting or standing. Your choice.”

 

June mouths over his ear. “Both.”

 

Nick takes her wrist, pulling her gently, walking them quickly to Commander Winslow’s courtyard. To a corner hidden in shadow. He slides his pants and underwear down to mid thigh as he turns and sits on the stone railing around the garden. He pulls June to him, reaching under her nightgown, breath catching when he finds nothing underneath. Her skin is warm against his cold fingers, slick and ready for him. He smirks, pulling her onto his lap, straddling him. She sits down onto his erection. They both close their eyes, as their bodies unite, gripping each other’s arms hard, breath held, hearts pounding, foreheads pressed together. The reunion of their bodies blindingly good, familiar, like going home. 

 

They watch each other, unable to kiss or react. Unable to make a single sound. Just like the first time.

 

Nick rocks his hips slowly, holding hers in place. Fucking up into her, pulling her down to him. Grinding as much as the position will allow. Quickly overcome, he clenches his eyes closed and leans toward her, nuzzling into her neck. 

 

June leans her cheek to his, kissing over his ear. “I told him. Luke. I told him everything. About Holly. About us.”

 

Nick finds her eyes. Searching her gaze. “What?”

 

June nods. Tears shimmering in her eyes. “I told him I love you. That I’m in love with you. That we made Holly out of love.”

 

Nick stands, hands sliding to support her thighs as he walks quickly to the side of the house. Carrying her to an alcove hidden from view. He presses June into the wall, using it to support his weight as he reaches between them and readjusts himself, pushing back inside her. He fucks her hard and fast. Head tucked into her shoulder, palming her breast with one hand, then kissing her. Hips slamming into her. No longer in control of his body. Desperate and greedy. Somehow managing to suppress all sound except the rustling of their clothes and his rapid, tight breaths. Her dress scrapes against the bricks behind her. She clings to the lapels of his overcoat for balance. June’s already coming. Silently, breath held. Legs clamped around him like a vice. He’s gone too. Forehead to her chest. Face scrunched in bliss. One hand supporting her, one fist against the wall, muscles taut, trembling with the bliss of release.

 

They breathe until their grips loosen. Dropping her legs. Dropping her dress. Fixing his pants.

 

They kiss then. For all of the times they’d been apart. Healing all of the brokenness and filling their hearts for the lonely nights ahead. He pulls back to gaze on her. “I love you. I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Ok.” June whispers. Kissing him one last time.

 

They smile. Mischievously. Before turning and walking separate ways. 

 

Snow continues to fall, muting the sound of their steps on the snow. Their footprints the only evidence of their stolen moment.


	3. A Deal With The Swiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from S3 showing Nick's conversation with the Swiss diplomats.

Nick sits in front of the conference table, suppressing his urge to fidget with his fingers or bounce his knee. Old habits that make him look nervous. 

 

He is nervous. But they don't need to know that. 

 

"We've been told that you want to cooperate with our inquiry, Mr. Blaine. What can you tell us about Gilead?"

 

Nick considers the question for a long beat before responding. " Everything." 

 

The diplomats scoff. "That's a bold statement."

 

"It’s the truth."

 

"But you were just a driver. You’ve been a commander less than a month..."

 

"My involvement is deeper than that. On both sides."

 

"How do you mean?"

 

Nick scans the faces across the table from him. Knowing he needs to be extremely careful. This meeting is not a deposition but anything he says is admissible in court. 

 

This here is not about the information itself. It's a negotiation. 

 

"I have experience with first wave SOJ, the Eyes, Mayday and the American Underground."

 

The room is silent. 

 

He continues. "I'd need to speak to a lawyer before coming forward with anything. You know that." 

 

The Swiss nod. "What do you want in return?"

 

"My daughter needs to stay in Canada."

 

"Consider it done."

 

"...the handmaid. Ms. Osborne. Protect her. Get her out. And her daughter- Hannah Bankole. Currently with the McKenzie family."

 

"Of course. You realize we cannot promise _you_ immunity for your testimony."

 

Nick nods. Swallowing thickly. 

 

He stands, shakes hands with the diplomats. 

 

"Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Blaine. We'll talk when the war is over." 

 

Nick nods and strides from the room, gripping his left hand with his right behind his back, thumb rolling nervously against his palm. 

 

Walking quickly. Trying to avoid the rising wave of nausea. Certain now that if he survives Chicago he'll die in a jail cell. A war criminal. But it will be worth it to protect his family.

 

It's what June asked him to do.

 

 

 


End file.
